


the type to take that risk

by UncommonCourtesies



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Light Angst, M/M, Mighty Nein as Family, Mutual Pining, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Political Alliances, Serious Meetings in Hot Tubs, Slow Burn, eventually, lots of shenanigans from the Mighty Nein
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-16
Updated: 2020-01-03
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:53:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21813988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UncommonCourtesies/pseuds/UncommonCourtesies
Summary: When the Dynasty and the Nein begin to doubt one another's allegiance, Essek and Caleb strike a deal- one question each under a truth spell to get all the cards on the table. Bargain made, Essek asks an unexpected question, sending things spiraling into confusion for the Nein.The fact that Essek seems to be flirting isn't making it any easier.
Relationships: Essek Thelyss/Caleb Widogast
Comments: 41
Kudos: 265





	1. Chapter 1

“And you expect me to trust you with this?”

The Shadowhand sits opposite Caleb, elbows resting gently on the oak wood table that occupies the corner of the library. He leans forward with the question, chin atop folded, arms enveloped by folds of dark fabric. Caleb studies his face as he searches for the appropriate answer.

Essek’s face is unsurprisingly neutral. His eyes are intent and focused, but nothing more. His jaw is relaxed, eyebrows following their natural curve. His mouth bears its signature tilt.

The upturning of the lips isn’t enough to be called a smile, but instead succeeds at making his expression more unreadable than ever. It isn’t bored or patronizing, and not quite amused either. But Caleb is well versed enough to understand the subtleties. Essek’s expression is a challenge. An invitation.

_Prove to me you’re worth my time._

“I do not expect anything of you, Herr Thelyss. I am in no place to expect you to do things for me.”

“Is that so?” The Shadowhand chuckles, raising an eyebrow. Caleb leans forward in his chair.

“I can only hope that you will understand how much of a use I could be to your country if I had more tricks, more spells to” he waves a hand in the air, searching for a word, “provoke the web of fate.”

Essek’s demeanor immediately shifts. The weight of his gaze, which had before been merely focused, now bears down on Caleb with a smothering feeling - claustrophobia. Caleb is struck with the instinct to look away, but he continues to stare into Essek’s eyes like a caged rat, an animal being watched, analyzed, studied. The glare reeks of danger.

Caleb remembers the way Essek had tightened his fist, and how the _Vollstreker’s_ body had collapsed so violently.

“Oh.” Essek smiles. “And if you would be so kind as to explain what you mean?”

Caleb, spellbound, obliges.

“I deal in transmutation: the transformation of one thing into another. What you do here in Xhorhas is still alien to me. I have sensed in the spells you have given to me the potential malleability of time. But even with calling an echo, all I am learning is how to deal on the surface of this well of alternate timelines.

“I still do not know how to describe this, but when we still had the beacon, I tried to understand how it worked. I saw fates changing and splitting. I have seen your mages at work. I can turn one thing into another, they can tap into something that is not there at all. These nonexistent timelines are just a resource at your disposal. Something you can pry apart, take from and then throw away.”

He mutters something under his breath, and with a flick of his wrist, four globules of light appear around him, hovering just beside his head.

“I know that I am talking blindly now, but you understand what I am asking. Time. Fate. It is all interconnected. You have shown this to me.”

The globules begin to move. They spin around each other, dancing in circles, increasing in speed. Caleb’s eyes flicker madly with the reflection.

“Do you see how much I could do with this? Imagine the asset I would be to you if I were stronger. You specialize in these things, and I want to learn them. I want to bend them. I want-” the lights vanish- “to break them.”

Essek’s spell fades.

“Now that wasn’t so difficult, was it, Widogast?”

Caleb slumps back against his chair, pulling in long breaths through gritted teeth. He doesn’t like not being in control. It still feels like a fresh wound, like stretching out his arm and watching his friends burn.

Or is it more like hitching a cart at the front of a wooden house?

Essek shifts in his seat, analyzing the man who sits across from him. Caleb senses the drow’s gaze moving, slowly, from his eyes to his mouth to his collar, then darting to the pale hands holding the sides of his chair. He looks Caleb in the eye again, the edges of a smile creeping onto his cheeks.

“Truly fascinating. I suppose it would be your turn, then.” 

“Why did you want to know that?” Caleb’s voice comes out softly now, the fervor that had been there now replaced with something more melancholy.

“Well what did you expect?”

“I do not know.”

It’s a lie.

___

“What do you mean he didn’t ask if we were spies? The whole dynasty thinks we’re spies!” Beauregard pulls out the chair next to Caleb with much more force than necessary, taking her perch atop it. “I mean, we could be fucking up the Bright Queen’s shit right now!”

Caduceus looks concerned. “How could we be doing that? I mean, we’re just sitting here.”

Caleb sighs and pushes his hands through his hair.

“Maybe Essek just really trusts us and knows that we aren’t evil,” Jester suggests from her spot on the kitchen counter. 

“Or maybe he is so sure that we’re spies that he didn’t want to waste his question asking us,” Caleb counters.

“Or maybe Essek thinks we’re traitors because he is _also_ a traitor!” Nott says, leaping to her feet. “Think about it. If he gets proof that we’re working for the Empire, he would have no choice but to report us to the Bright Queen. And if we get reported, we’re done for. But he didn’t ask us! And why would he ask us? Because he’s working for the Empire _this whole time!_ ”

“Oh my god, he is totally the traitor you guys!” Jester drops down from the counter and rushes over to Nott, who grabs her by the shoulders.

“I just solved the case!”

“You did it! You solved it!”

“We’re the best detectives ever!”

“Wait, wait, let’s slow down for a moment, _ja_?” Caleb interrupts, rubbing his neck. “There is a whole other factor we are ignoring here. We were the ones who proposed this whole question thing.”

“Caleb’s right,” Fjord says, moving out from the doorway he had been leaning against. “We proposed a game inviting them to question our intentions, inviting them to expose us if we were spies and send us to jail. We have to consider how that looked to the Dynasty.”

“Exactly,” Caleb says. “What kind of people would do that?”

Beau nods. “You’re saying we’re either completely innocent, or we’re spies who understood how it would look and took a huge fucking risk.”

“And we look like the type who would take that risk.”

Caleb leans back onto the table with a slow sigh, the tips of his fingers forming a triangle that he rests his face into. Frumpkin appears on the back of his chair and jumps onto his shoulders. The tabby folds like scarf around the tired human’s neck. 

Beau ponders for a moment. “But I still don’t get it. If the Dynasty thinks we’re spies, why wouldn’t Essek just call us out and get it over with?”

“Maybe the Dynasty has plans for us anyway.” Caleb replies. “Maybe he is a traitor. Maybe he wants us to think we got away with it. Maybe he didn’t want to waste a question. There is no way to tell.”

Nott climbs back into her chair. “We could ask him. You still have your question.”

“And is that worth its use?”

The Xhorhaus falls silent, six bodies holding vigil in the candlelight of the kitchen while midnight falls over their city. Eyes dart around the room, each waiting for someone else to offer the solution.

“I think we’re overthinking this.” Caduceus says. “Maybe he just wanted to know something else.” Jester’s eyes light up. 

“Yeah Caleb, maybe Essek just really wanted to learn about your magic, you know?” Caleb lifts his head and frowns. 

“There is always an ulterior motive. Let’s get some sleep.”

  
  


____

“I apologize for arriving before you were ready. I do not wish to intrude upon you and your friends’ private affairs.”

Essek hovers facing one of the many bookshelves that line the wall of the study, glancing over the titles. Opposite him, the door to Caleb’s room is shut, but the voice carries through. 

“It is my fault entirely. We all should have been awake by now.” 

“Late night?”

“Later than usual, _ja.”_

The door connecting the bedroom to the study opens. Caleb quietly steps into the library, no longer in his sleepwear, circles just visible below his eyes. His hair is not tied back, rather left to fall loosely against the sides of his face and neck.

The Shadowhand turns to greet him.

“I hope nothing has been bothering you and your friends,” he says, though it sounds more like a question. “You should be rested if you plan to leave tomorrow.”

“You make a good point.” 

Caleb crosses in front of his guest, giving a curt nod before walking towards the table. Essek drifts over to the opposite end, eyes trained as Caleb begins arranging his papers and books.

“I take it you and the others have been preparing?”

Caleb looks up from the desk. “Extensively. I assure you we do not take the trust you have placed in us lightly.”

“I am glad to hear that.”

Essek and Caleb both take their seats across from one another. Essek waits for Caleb to finish arranging his books and papers. Caleb is flipping through what looks like a notebook, covered in Zemnian scrawlings from a thin black pen. A piece of hair falls over his eyes, and he pushes it out of the way. 

“Looking for something?”

Caleb hums in agreement. Another strand of hair falls forward.

“That is why I keep mine short,” Essek says, gesturing towards Caleb’s forehead. “More convenient for researching.”

Caleb looks up, somewhat dubious. “That is the reason? So you can read books.”

“Well, maybe I prefer the way it makes me look,” he purrs. Caleb holds his gaze for a moment, then reaches down and tears a page out of his book.

“Our notes from what we saw at the Lotus Den. We believe that combined with your knowledge, it could reveal some things, possibly, about the Angel of Irons.” 

He slides the paper to the middle of the table. Essek’s other hand emerges from the folds of his mantle with a slight flourish. Caleb isn’t sure if Essek meant to touch him, but the drow’s hand has landed lightly on top of his. 

“I’m sure Skysybil Mirimm will appreciate this.”

Essek removes his hand and pulls the page into the folds of his cloak. As he withdraws, Essek’s fingers drag across Caleb’s. The touch is light, fast, but still lingers a moment too long. Long enough to send a shiver down Caleb’s spine. 

He pulls his hand back quickly, confused. Essek gives him a practiced smile, the mask of calm ever present on his face. 

“Well, shall we get started?”

There’s the question Caleb was dreading. He clears his throat. _Just like you practiced. Do not let him know that his intentions have come into question. Do not give him reasons to doubt._

“My friends asked me to request that we wait another day, so that we can be sure our question comes to use.” The lie falls from his lips with ease. 

“That is very well. I understand if you were taken aback by my question yesterday.”

Caleb stops. What was his tell? 

His hands are folded in his lap, not scratching at his arms or neck. His chin sits straight, no tilt to the side that manifests when he considers his words carefully. His gaze is steady.

Every box checked, but Essek knows.

Caleb remains silent. He would rather not condescend his guest by playing dumb. 

The Shadowhand rewards him with another court-worn grin. 

“You’ll find I am full of surprises.”

“I can imagine you a—“

_‘Caleb. Come to the war room now. You can reply to this message.’_

The shrill of Nott’s voice stops Caleb mid sentence. He sighs and lifts an apologetic hand to Essek, who raises an eyebrow.

“I cannot now. I am busy with our guest.”

Essek chuckles. 

“So Jester does that to all of you?”

“No, _nein,_ that was not Jester. Nott has a, ah, similar trick.”

“Interesting.” 

Nott’s voice cuts into Caleb’s head again. 

_‘Fjord found something dangerous. Don’t alert Essek that anything weird is happening. Come upstairs. You can reply to this message.’_

Caleb’s brow furrows as he looks towards the drow sitting across from him, eyes trained expectantly on him. 

“ _Ja,_ ok, tell Jester I am coming and that her weasel will be fine.”

Essek tilts his head. “Is something the matter, Widogast?” Then, with more bemusement—“Jester has a weasel?”

Caleb responds with a laugh he hopes sounds genuine. “Sprinkle. Apparently he got stuck somewhere.”

“If you wanted I could assist--”

Caleb shakes his head. “It will only be one moment.”

Caleb makes his way up the stairway, taking care to keep his steps light. He isn’t sure why he takes the precaution. Anxiety is a familiar feeling, and hiding away is a familiar habit. He has been falling into old habits so easily, lately. 

Nott is standing outside the door, which is cracked open. Inside, he can hear Beau and Jester loudly conversing. 

“Really cool that we have a war room, right Jester?”

“Yeah, it is totally the coolest. Now that Cad added plants, it is very pretty and we can use it to plot against the Empire.”

Fjord’s sword is out, runes illuminated. He is standing beside the central table, holding it up like a beacon. “This fly just keeps getting away,” he declares, quite loudly. He swings the sword a bit for dramatic effect. 

Nott grabs Caleb by the shoulders and pulls him into earshot. “Fjord noticed a scry spell in the corner over there. We’ve been compromised!”

Caleb curses under his breath. “Do we know who it is?”

“No, but you’re very smart and Jester said there’s ways to block them and so we thought that maybe you could get rid of it.”

“ _Ja, gut._ It is not a problem.”

Caleb pushes past Nott through the doorway and begins to make a show of rifling through his pockets. 

“It is ok, Jester, I can get Sprinkle down from there.”

“From wh” --Jester’s eyes land on Caleb’s right hand, which has just begun to fiddle with the clasp on his necklace-- “Ooooh yeah, Sprinkle, yeah, totally, he just got up in that corner and I don’t even know how, but you can get him down right?”

“He is only hiding,” Caleb smiles. “But we can see him”

Caleb slips the pendant off from around his neck and tucks the chain between his fingers. Pulling some stray spell components from his pouch, he aims for the corner of the ceiling that Nott and Fjord had both implicated. As the pieces of moss roll between his fingertips, he pushes his hands forward.

“Caught you.”

His fingers unfurl. The scent of phosphorus surges through the room. A bright light bursts forwards from his open hands. The chain slips and the pendant slides down, dangling in front of his palms, shining in the epicenter of the light as he thrusts his arms upwards. 

A few feet beside him, Fjord’s body relaxes.

“It’s gone. The scry is gone.”

Some moments pass in silence. Fjord takes the perimeter of the room, then steps outside into the hallway. He returns about a minute later, finally lowering his sword.

“We’re clear. At least for now.”

Nott, Yasha, and Caduceus step into the room. The air feels heavier. Even with Fjord’s reassurance that the spell is gone, whatever illusion of freedom that previously inhabited the space is shattered. 

Caduceus smiles.

“Well this certainly complicates things, doesn’t it?”

“That’s it,” Beau says, swinging her legs over the side of the table. “Group meeting. Now.” Caleb glances back towards the door.

“I suppose I should tell the Shadowhand to return at a better time,” he says.

___

“Yes, I understand entirely.”

Caleb looks to his guest with a grimace. “We know you made the effort to come here on our request. I apologize once again for any time we may have taken out of your day.”

“Then I suppose I should be off,” Essek nods, placing a book back onto a nearby shelf. “I hope you don’t mind, I took a look around.”

“You are welcome to at any time. I have already read them all, so it is no bother to me.”

At this declaration, Essek, glances back at the bookshelf. And then back to Caleb, head tilted to the left. His eyebrow is in a curious position-- almost confused, or rather amused, taken aback. Caleb has never seen this expression on the man before.

“Really? Hm.” The corner of Essek’s mouth pulls into a hesitant smile. “I would not have expected you to be a man of that taste.”

With that, the Shadowhand turns and glides out of the study. Caleb hears the chime as the door swings open, and then shut.

_A man of what taste?_

Caleb is nothing but proud of his collection. He could list off every title, and then a line of summary for each if asked. Some were new, information he had just so recently come into the possession of. Others had been in his holster for some time, relics of past adventures and misfortunes. The valuable spell books were locked away in his room, of course. It would be foolish to leave something of such import out in the open.

_What book could he have found?_

Caleb walks forward, trying to find what book had caught Essek’s gaze and 

Oh.

_Oh no._

Caleb decides this is a great moment to panic.


	2. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A dark silhouette wrapped in a heavy mantle drifts out of the door behind the firbolg. 
> 
> “We have company!” Caduceus announces as Essek Thelyss, Prodigy of Dunamancy, Shadowhand to the Bright Queen of the Dynasty, locks eyes on the crowded hot tub and freezes up under the archway.

“ _ Cay- _ leb, what’s taking you so long?”

Jester waltzes down the stairs, pausing about halfway down to drape herself over the railing and extend her arms. There is something striking about the way she holds her chin and arches her body forward, the same way her mother had when she sang back in Nicodranas, bathed under flickering red lights and surrounded by applause. From her position, she can just see Caleb sitting in the study with his head buried in his hands, what’s visible of his face looking the same color as his hair. 

“Caleb, why are you so red?” 

Jester leans back onto the stairs and cups her hands around her mouth. “Hey guys, Caleb is blushing super duper hard right now! He looks really funny!”

“Aw shit, I wanna see!”

Beau comes busting out of the war room, nearly knocking Jester off of the steps.

“What happened, did Essek do something?” Jester teases, running down to the landing. 

“Yeah, are we interrupting something?” Beau calls after her, not apologetic in the slightest.

Caleb mumbles something into his hands and pushes them up through his hair. His gaze falls disdainfully onto the book sitting on the table in front of him. Jester comes up beside him and plucks the book off the table. 

“ _ The Courting of the Crick _ ,” Jester reads, and her eyes double in size. “Oh my god you were totally reading this when I came downstairs weren’t you.”

“No I was--”

Jester calls out to the rest of the house again.

“Guys, Caleb is reading smut about Essek!”

The door of the war room slams open.

“I KNEW IT!” Nott screams.

“How does Caleb have smut about Essek?” Yasha asks.

“What the hell, Caleb?” Fjord’s voice follows.

“What’s a smut?” Caduceus asks. 

Caleb grabs the book back from Jester and rises from his seat. The tips of his ears are rapidly shifting from light pink to bright red.

“Can we all just take a moment now, please?” Caleb turns to look up the stairs, where Beau and Nott are in varying stages of shock. “You are all very loud and I am trying to talk.”

There are various mumbles of agreement, and the rest of the group make their way downstairs to join Caleb in the study. He is pacing nervously and staring at the ground, forcing the blush away from his cheeks and neck.

“You all remember this book,  _ ja?”  _ Caleb says finally, looking pointedly to Jester and Beau. _ “ _ Jester bought it for me back in Zadash. I gave it to Beau to carry. I have not looked at it since.” He pauses. “That is, until today when I was upstairs talking to you all and Essek noticed it on my shelf.”

The room falls quiet. Beau and Fjord curse quietly. Nott curses very loudly. 

“He recognized it?” Fjord asks.

“Well, the title is fairly self explanatory,” Caleb sighs slamming the book back onto the desk. “He is probably on his way to tell the Bright Queen as we speak.” 

Fjord chokes on air. 

“Caleb, forgive me if I’m missing something, but why would Essek be reporting to the Bright Queen about our alleged, ah, well, habits involving--”

“Porn!” Jester interjects. “Yeah that would be kind of weird, Caleb.”

“Caleb kind of has a point.” Beau says. “If they suspect us,  _ and _ we have books on display with racial slurs, that doesn’t look that great for us. Kind of proves their point.”

“And even if it isn’t important enough to tell the queen, he probably thinks you are some kind of racist sex pervert now,” Yasha adds. That isn’t a particularly comforting thought. Caleb wants to go into his room, lock the doors, and conveniently vanish from the timeline.

What Essek thinks about him means a lot. Shadowhand to the Queen of the Dynasty-- his trust could quite literally be keeping them alive. The Mighty Nein are foreigners deep in hostile territory, and the slightest misstep could land them rotting in the greying cells of the Dungeon of Penance. And having Essek’s approval grants him the trust of the leadership, the teleportation spells, and of course, the dunamancy lessons.

Caleb knows he was barely able to get them in the first place. He had to be vulnerable, dangerously so, hoping Essek would see something promising in him and give him a chance. Essek clearly thinks him smart and capable to be learning such complex magics, but beyond that, Caleb has no clue what the Shadowhand sees in him. He hopes Essek sees the good in him. He hopes that he thinks of him kindly.

Which is an odd thought, Caleb realizes, because whether or not Essek finds him an enjoyable person to be around means nothing for the Nein’s survival in Xhorhas. It crawls its way into his brain nonetheless.

“ _ Ja,”  _ Caleb says, “so I doubt he will want to speak to me again after this.” 

“It can’t be that bad,” Caduceus says. “The next time you see him, just talk to him. He’s smart. He’ll understand.”

Caleb laughs dryly. “Perhaps.”

\---

“So what if they scry on us- we’re naked!” Beau says. “Nobody expects anyone to be talking about serious shit while they’re naked!” 

After some careful deliberation, the Nein decide that the hot tub is the safest location in the house to hold a meeting. Yasha makes it in first, watching blankly as her friends strip down to join her.

The air is cold. A thick fog formed from the steam of the hot water obscures the sparkling lights hung on the tree. The Nein bask peacefully for some minutes, faces illuminated in a soft glow as the lights are dimmed and scattered through the mist like a prism.

They talk back and forth for some time with no new revelations. The scry couldn’t have been Essek, but it still could’ve been from the Dynasty. Essek could have been sent to the Xhorhaus as a distraction. And if the Dynasty is scrying, it means the Dynasty still suspects them-- which makes no sense, Fjord argues, because if that were the case, why didn’t they just use their question to ask? But Nott says it has to be the Dynasty, because nobody back in the Empire would need to scry on them. Jester suggests it could be The Gentleman, and Yasha worries about that man they had intercepted on a mission, the one who had known her old name.

There are so many questions tearing at the backs of their heads.

“I wish the Traveller were here,” Jester says softly, spinning her finger idly through the bubbles. “He would know what we should do.”

So many hopeless questions.

Caduceus leaves to grab some tea, and the group decide to pause the discussion for a while and just soak. Caleb is thankful for the relaxation. The days have been tense for the Nein, and he imagines his isn’t the only grateful to sit in silence. Just days ago, Yasha had narrowly avoided capture by a cult following an Angel, and here they were spending their last day in the Xhorhaus before setting out once more to bring the demons to justice. The other members of the Nein look equally caught up in thought. Yasha the most, though Caleb can’t blame her. 

He knows too well the fear of the past catching up. Just being in a room with Trent in the Victory Pit had been enough. Meanwhile Obann had put his hands all over her, his words into her head. And he almost got away with it, too.

Caleb hears a clambering at the staircase, and Caduceus rounds the corner with a tray covered in teacups. Eight teacups.

A dark silhouette wrapped in a heavy mantle drifts out of the door behind the firbolg. 

“We have company!” Caduceus announces as Essek Thelyss, Prodigy of Dunamancy, Shadowhand to the Bright Queen of the Dynasty, locks eyes on the crowded hot tub and freezes up under the archway.

“I was not aware you were all bathing,” he says simply, as if he hasn’t just walked into a room with 6 naked mercenaries staring him down. Beau stutters.

“Hey Caduceus, did you not like, tell Essek we were naked?”

“I don’t see why that would matter,” Caduceus smiles. He places the tea tray beside the tub and looks to the group. “Tea?”

The moment Essek enters the room, Caleb’s brain short circuits. He sinks deeper into the water, allowing the bubbles to obscure his chest and shoulders. Behind the white noise buzzing through his head, Caleb can hear Jester offering Essek a spot in the tub. She takes special care to shift to the left slightly, leaving an open space between Caleb and herself, which Essek regards momentarily before averting his gaze. Caleb can’t imagine what he would have done if Essek had agreed. What body would emerge from under that mantle? Maybe Essek would be lithe and limber like him, a wizard with no need for physical prowess, whose legs were weak from disuse through levitation. Or perhaps Essek’s musculature was more defined, sculpted with the same precision as his cheekbones and jaw. He could have a graceful form, but powerful still, with shoulders and biceps hinting at strength far beyond what would be expected. With how much the mantle obscures, Essek could be carrying a saxophone under the cloak at all times. For all Caleb knows, the drow could be as built as Yasha. 

That thought sends his mind spiralling in many different directions, none of them paths Caleb wishes to go down or even acknowledge. Caleb sinks down further into the water until his mouth is partially submerged. 

Essek regards the group with curiosity, and Caleb notices that he seems to be looking at everyone but him. 

“Normally I would wait until you are all less exposed,” Essek says, “but I am a busy man, and I will become much busier with this new information that has been uncovered. Allow me to explain a few things and I will be on my way.”

Fjord, who has moved so his entire body is obscured from Essek’s view by Yasha, gives him the go-ahead to speak. 

“Widogast provided me with his notes about the Lotus Den this morning, as I’m sure you are all aware. He copied down a symbol that was carved into the tree located where you did battle, which I examined and brought to the scholars of the Marble Tomes.” Essek’s face twists. “You are all planning on facing this cult again tomorrow, is this correct?”

“Yeah, Jester found a pretty big lead pointing towards Rexxentrum,” Beau says.

“Well, you will not find the Angel of Irons there in Rexxentrum. Or in the Empire. Or anywhere else, for that matter, because she does not exist.” 

A hand emerges from the folds of Essek’s robes and traces a series of movements into the air. Thin lines of blue-grey mist trail from his finger, leaving a sigil hanging space in front of him. 

“This is the symbol from the tree. It has been attributed to many entities across the ages, but scholars believe the true owner of such a rune is none other than the mad god Tharizdun himself.”

Essek punctuates the hit of each syllable, accentuating the sharp edges, drawing out the name like a venom dripping from his tongue. Amid the swirling mist and heat of the water, Caleb feels his blood run cold. He ventures to speak.

“Tharizdun? As in The Chained Oblivion?”

“That would be the one.”

“Why the hell would Tharizdun be after Yasha?” Beau asks, running a hand across the back of her head. “No wait, fuck that. This guy is all about hunger, right? And insanity? Why would anyone want to help him?”

“They don’t,” Yasha says, almost to herself. “In the hour they had me while they were preparing to kidnap me and run, I heard the devil talking. He doesn’t know.” 

Essek nods, finally sparing a glance at Caleb. His soft smile is long gone now, replaced a tight-lipped line.

“I must be off now. And as I do not wish to see you all die at the hands of a cult worshipping a mad god, I would recommend you reconsider.” Essek turns to leave, only pausing at the top of the stairwell. “But I have come to understand that you all hold fast to your beliefs and decisions, and to expect you to heed my warning would be foolish. At the very least, change your preparations.”

And with that, he exits.

“He didn’t look very happy you guys,” Jester says after a few moments have passed.

“Yeah no  _ shit  _ he didn’t look happy!” Beau’s sudden arm movement sends water splashing across the floor. “Nobody wants to find out one of the most powerful deities in all of the planes is slowly being released!”

“Maybe I should apologize,” Caleb mutters. “Or at least explain why we own that book.”

“You really think he’s mad about that?” Jester asks.

Caleb steps out of the hot tub and grabs a towel. 

“If we are all going to die tomorrow, I may as well clear my name before we do.”

\---

Caleb catches Essek just as the chime is sounding above the door. He turns to face Caleb, and Caleb finds himself wishing that face was just a little less unreadable, because he can’t tell if there is frustration or purely shock behind his white eyes. He keeps his distance as Essek regards him carefully. 

“Essek, I wanted to apologize.”

“I’m listening.”

“It’s about the book.”

“Ah.” 

Caleb swallows, trying to keep control of his heart rate. He can’t tell which factors are causing it to speed up-- the embarrassment of the subject matter, the fact that he isn’t fully clothed, or the intensity in the way that Essek holds his gaze, peering at him with silvery eyes through thick, dark lashes.

“We purchased the book a long time ago. We knew nothing of the Dynasty, much less the meaning of the word. I should have been more thoughtful when I was arranging my books.” Caleb takes a breath. “I mean, we were quite rude to you this morning, sleeping in, kicking you out without warning. I cannot expect you to accept my apology, but I promise we have no ill feelings towards your homeland or any of the inhabitants. It was simply a poor choice in literature.”

In response, Essek lets out an undignified snort.

“Have I said something amusing, Herr Thelyss?” Caleb’s forehead crumples into a scowl. “I am trying to keep this straightforward. I do not take this lightly.”

Essek chuckles again.

“You have said nothing wrong, Caleb, and I do believe you. I am simply finding it difficult to regard you seriously when you have come to me in a bath towel to discuss such profane topics. My apologies.”

Although heavily laced with sarcasm, his voice is lighter again, shifting to amusement where there once had been disapproval. Essek’s eyes linger at the knot where Caleb has hastily tied the towel around his waist, then slowly drift back up to the human’s face. The journey back upwards takes longer than it should. Something seems to flicker in Essek’s eyes, and Caleb is rapidly becoming aware of the heat blooming in his neck and face.

“Well, you know, last minute cosplay of the main character,” Caleb jokes, dropping his voice until there is gravel.

“Then you have read it?”

“We didn’t have a lot of money. Work with what you have,  _ ja?”  _ He doesn’t know why Essek is still staring at him. He can feel the heat reaching the tips of his ears. The water still on his body is growing awfully warm, and Essek is giving him  _ that look  _ again, and  _ gods, _ for a moment he feels to urge to step in, step closer, keep moving until there is no more space between them.

“If that is why you wanted access to the Marble Tomes, you should have just asked.”

“If that is what it takes to get in.”

Caleb holds his gaze with matching intensity, hoping to decipher the hints of  _ something _ sparkling in Essek’s eyes. Essek smiles, and Caleb feels his chest twist as the sharpened tip of an incisor pokes out from between his lips.

Essek finally steps back. 

“Thank you for clearing that up with me. But I recommend perhaps moving the book to a more private location.” 

Caleb nods, not trusting himself to open his mouth. The slip of the fang was intentional, he knows it has to have been. Essek has never parted his lips that particular way before in all the time Caleb has been watching them. Well it worked, whatever game Essek is trying to play. It worked, and Caleb’s throat is dry. Essek returns the nod. 

_ Foolish.  _ Caleb’s fingers rake across his arms.  _ He knows what he is doing. Trying to get you sweet on him. Thinking that just because he has a pretty face... _

Caleb pauses. Who is he to let Essek win?

Caleb moves in again places a hand against the wall, giving him the balance he needs to lean in just a little bit more. Essek isn’t hovering at this moment, so the movement lands Caleb slightly above him. It is a subtle reversal of their usual heights, but enough that Essek instinctually lifts his chin to retain eye contact. Caleb smiles.

“I know of many, ah, private locations. You’ll have to let me show you around sometime.”

Essek blinks up at him, eyes a little wider than before. Caleb steps back gingerly and presents the most innocent smile he can muster. 

“Have a pleasant afternoon, Shadowhand. We will be seeing you shortly.”

As Caleb ascends the staircase, he counts a solid five seconds before the chimes finally sound and the door swings shut.

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wish I could say it took me this long to update because I was busy for the holidays, but I actually had a ton of spare time and got lazy. Rereading all the kind comments helped give me that push of motivation. Hope it has lived up to your expectations!
> 
> This one got pretty outrageous and lighthearted, which I'm less experienced at writing. But never fear! Next chapter is gonna have so much pain you'll forget what happiness even is. (Well, hopefully not that bad. I'm just an angst writer at heart.) 
> 
> Thanks again to my beta readers!

**Author's Note:**

> Finally published the first chapter! This has been in the making for a long time. Huge thanks to the discord for supporting my work and travelercon and vanilla from the server for beta reading the chapter.
> 
> Comments and feedback and just anything is appreciated.  
> Thanks for stopping by and taking your time to read this! Have a lovely day.


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